


Assorted Percy Snippets/Ficlets

by Teague (macteague)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macteague/pseuds/Teague
Summary: A handful of unrelated ficlet/short scenes that were posted on my Livejournal pre-2006.





	1. Under Pressure

Percy paced the room relentlessly. Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Check the clock. Still not time to apparate. He wanted to break something. Throw the kind of huge fit his brothers and Ginny were capable of. Words bubbled up in his chest, beating at the stone in his throat. His fists clenched so hard that it hurt, as he thought of the dishes in the kitchen. Smashing every last one of them would be so satisfying. One good flick of his wand, and he could shatter the windows too.

He wouldn't of course. It would be irresponsible, and Percy Weasley was never irresponsible. The thought was bitter. No, he'd just bottle this up until it went away or he exploded and died. Six, Seven, Eight. Check the clock. Still not time.

"Percy."

Oliver's voice was a flat out command. Percy stiffened, offended. Oliver had never used that tone of voice on him before.

But instead of snarling, he found himself obeying and walking over to Oliver. Oliver pulled him down onto the couch beside him.

"Stop," he said firmly.

Percy could feel his eyes widening in shock. Stop? Like he was some sort of child working himself up over nothing?

He opened his mouth to tell Oliver exactly what he thought of this sudden attitude, but Oliver cut him off with a hard kiss.

"Stop," he said again, more quietly, hand stroking Percy's back. His brown eyes were nothing but sympathetic, and Percy kissed him, a bit desperately.

He put all the things he couldn't manage to say into the kiss. Help me. I don't want to do this. It hurts to re-open this same wound over and over again. Why can't they just leave me alone? Then I could get used to having no family. I can't do this. They hate me. Get me out of this. I don't want to care about this.

When the kiss broke off, Percy discovered he was lying on the couch, pinned between Oliver and the cushions, Oliver's arms wrapped firmly around him.

Oliver's kiss said all the things Percy needed to hear. You aren't alone. You can do this. No matter what, you have me.

Percy hid his face on Oliver's shoulder. There was no one else in the world he'd let see him this way. But Oliver's touch was soft and soothing, undoing the knots of pain and fear and rage, and Oliver didn't mind if Percy sometimes needed to hide behind him, any more than Percy minded that sometimes he had to remind Oliver that he was more than Quidditch, after a bad loss.

He still didn't want to go to this meeting with his parents. He wanted so badly for them to want him back. He thought he could even apologize, if they'd just give him some hope that they saw him differently now. Saw him as someone with a right to make his own decisions, someone who was capable, who was valued by the outside world for his contributions. 

But they'd let him down every time he'd had any contact with them since the Argument. His mother just wanted him to apologize and go back to the way things were. His father hadn't looked at him since, not even once.

Maybe he'd change his name. Kill off Percy Weasley and become Percy Wood. Oliver's parents liked him well enough, they'd probably be amused. He huffed a soft laugh.

Oliver slid a hand under his chin, raising his face until they were eye to eye. "All right?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," Percy muttered. 

He kissed Oliver before he could ask any stupid questions. He'd manage, even if this went badly, because he was never a disappointment to Oliver.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, there's no resolution of the Weasley Rift here. I was more interested in how reconciliation might feel to Percy, as the books were very clear that Percy was All Wrong All The Time And Should Grovel. (I've never met a disagreement that didn't have two sides, so this irritated me. LOL)


	2. Opaque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver makes things simple, and Percy finds that a relief in a world he never seems quite able to understand.

People are never as simple as they seem. Percy hates that. He's always being taken off guard by the people around him, because his expectations are based on the way they behave, and on the things they've said. But there are a thousand reasons buried deep below these things, and most people seem to make decisions based on the unseen, illogical structures of their character.

He ought to know better than anyone how that works, because he's continually taking other people by surprise. But in his case, it's as if they don't expect him to react the way his behaviour and stated opinions indicate. He's tried to be more like other people, and project a better image of himself: Respectable, Grownup, Wise...But Percy's never been able to keep it up for long. Irritability, fear, too much enthusiasm...they all refuse to be contained behind a static image. They leak out like magic from a teapot that's been spelled too often. He feels self-conscious and abnormal when he thinks about it, and he knows that that shows too, in everything he does and says.

Sometimes Percy wonders if Muggles are any simpler; perhaps he should have been born a Squib. But Percy knows what happens to most Squibs, once their deficiency is discovered, and he doesn't think that being abandoned among Muggles or being sent to one of the Special Schools, like Geoffrey, would make for an easy life. 

Oliver is the most honest person Percy knows. When he thinks something, he says it. When he cares about something he can't hide it; his eyes shine, his hands describe restless images in the air, and the enthusiasm in his voice sweeps his listeners away with him. When Oliver's angry, he yells. Throws things. Glowers and stomps and tells why he is angry and what you ought to do about it.

It's part of the reason Percy loves him so much, he thinks.

When Oliver loves you, he makes sure you know it. Constant touches, wicked smiles, and murmured words between kisses. Oliver says "I love you" the way other people say "It's sunny out"; a smiling proclamation spurred by a mere presence.

Percy can't stop smiling these days, and his co-workers are constantly surprised by his good cheer. It's as if they think it must be some sort of act, rather than a direct indication of how he feels. Sometimes he thinks that, after all, maybe they are the abnormal ones, because he knows his reasons, and he isn't going to hide them anymore.


	3. The Ministry Bachelor Aucction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is smart, and proactive, and sees this coming a mile away. But somehow he still can't get out of it.

The annual Ministry Fund-raiser was known for its cheesy activities and the small size of the funds raised; this must be established from the start. This year, for the first time in ten years, a new committee was running it. A committee with big ideas and newfangled creativity fueled by boundless enthusiasm. All in all a combination that could only lead to horror, or so thought Percy Weasley when the memo crossed his desk Monday morning.

There were to be pie-throwing contests, pie-eating contests, carnival rides, both Wizard and Muggle, a charity ball, a food drive, jelly bean counting contests, a talent show, a poetry contest, and the piece de resistance: a bachelor auction.

"Well, I know I’ll have to participate in at least one thing. At lunch, I’ll go purchase non-perishable food items and make sure somebody sees me drop them off in the box. Then at the department meeting this afternoon I can say I’ve already done my part. If they want more, I’ll join the poetry contest or something, anything to avoid the talent show or the bachelor auction,” he thought to himself amiably.

At the meeting, Percy volunteered to help transport the food drive items to the local food bank right off the bat. That earned him the approval of the two ladies on the committee who were presiding over the meeting. “Should be safe now,” thought Percy, as one of his co-workers gushed over his kindness in starting out the food drive donations so generously.

The rest of his male co-workers, evidently not so quick on the uptake, were jockeying for the less humiliating duties now. Percy kept his face respectfully blank, intent on not drawing attention. Smythe, Carstairs, and Abedkedneezer were tapped for the dunking booth. Calvin was volunteered as a target for the pie throwing.

He was jerked out of his musings by Mrs. Devanshire saying “- And the last item we need volunteers for is the bachelor auction. We’ve taken the liberty of signing up all the eligible single men.” She smiled at them encouragingly as there was a collective gasp of horror from the unlucky.

“Please, please don’t let them have heard that Penny and I broke up,” Percy began internally pleading with his D.O.C. (Deity Of Choice), “I promise I will be good. I’ll be nice to the twins all summer if you just don’t make me do this!” Looking around, he could see he was not the only one so engaged.

“So just to be clear,” said Mrs. Devanshire, “That’s Smythe, Adelhard, Blake, and Weasley from this department.”

Percy was relatively sure that his horrified protest was internal. Smythe groaned and slumped in his chair. Blake had gone dead white. Adelhard, the sole ladies man of the small department, smirked at them all with the air of a man who is utterly certain women will fight over him. And what was worse, in Percy’s estimation, is that there probably WOULD be a bidding war over the man. Prodded by images of standing on a stage in front of silent masses while the auctioneer repeatedly lowered the price, he spoke up.

“Perhaps there should be some sort of buy out for those of us who don’t wish to participate? We could just pay you a set amount to not be in it?” he asked Mrs. Davenport hopefully.

“Yes! Brilliant idea, Weasley! Perfect as always!” Blake grabbed at the idea desperately, while Smythe fixed the two women with such an imploring look that Percy felt certain it would take a much more cruel woman than Mrs. Davenport to refuse them.

But the unnatural woman just gave the three of them a beaming look of encouragement. “You’ll do fine dears,” she said firmly. “Now, here are your T-shirts” she added, as she handed them each one.

Percy opened his. It was black, and said ‘Property of the Ministry of Magic’ on the back, and displayed the Ministry crest on the front. It seemed, beyond the obvious tackiness, to be a bit on the small side. 

“I think I’ll need a larger size,” said Smythe doubtfully. Glancing to see him holding an identical shirt, Percy had to agree. Smythe was a very tall and broad shouldered man in his middle years. The T-shirt would fit like a second skin, and in Percy’s opinion that was something no one needed to see.

“No dear, that’s how they’re supposed to fit. Now do any of you own black leather pants?” 

“Please, let me die before Friday,” thought Percy fervently. Adelhard raised his hand, the others stared at the woman in horror.

“All right, I’ve signed you three up for a fitting Wednesday at noon. In conference room A63, in the Masonville Building. I’ll send you all a reminder so you don’t forget,” she added, clearly reading the universal intent to be elsewhere for the fitting.

“Every time I think life can’t get any worse? It does. Why, why me? No one in their right mind is going to pay to attend the charity ball with me,” Percy agonized to himself.

Wednesday came far too quickly for Percy. The fitting went quickly, and he was more resigned then horrified to realize that their idea of pants that fit was very similar to their idea of T-shirts that fit. When they made him try it on, he was convinced he’d never felt so naked in his life.

“It might have actually been more modest if I just showed up naked,” he reflected ruefully, examining his reflection. He wasn't without muscle, but overall, he thought he mostly looked gawky and odd. He thought it likely that he would inspire more laughter than anything when people saw him dressed like this.

“What about his hair?” asked an elderly woman he didn’t know, looking him over in a disturbingly proprietary fashion.

“Oh, he’s a C & G” replied Mrs. Davenport.

“C & G?” Percy asked, regarding his red hair with alarm.

“Cut and Gel. You can go back to work now. You’ll need to be back here Friday at 11 she said firmly, heading over to straighten the pant leg of a loudly complaining man from accounts receivable. 

“Maybe a tornado will come and destroy the building,” thought Percy hopefully. “Or a rogue dragon… maybe I could convince Charlie to send Norbert for a visit?”

Bolstered by visions of the committee fleeing a flaming dragon, screaming in terror, Percy was able to resume his work that afternoon.

***

Percy and Smythe looked on as the bidding on Adelhard reached the highest amount that day: 105 galleons. He waved and smiled graciously at his disappointed bidders as he walked off the stage to meet the winner, a giggling middle-aged woman from accounting.

"Weasley, maybe it's not too late to make a break for it?"

"It was too late as soon as Mrs. Devanshire added our names to the list," muttered Percy darkly.

Smythe's name was called and he walked out on stage with a despairing glance at Percy. Percy watched with an increasingly sick feeling in his stomach as the bidding for Smythe reached 40 galleons. The man looked pathetically relieved as he walked off stage. Which meant Percy was next. When his name was called, he walked out with apparent casualness, bracing himself for the utter dearth of bidding.

"And here we have young Mr. Weasley," cheered Mrs. Devanshire. "We'll start the bidding at 25 galleons, are there any bidders?" Briefly, Percy hated her more than any other person he'd ever met. Did she have to be so cheerful in the face of his humiliation?

"26" yelled a woman. Percy looked over at her, shocked. It was Janice, the receptionist, and she gave him a little wave. “Thank goodness”, thought Percy. “I had no idea she was so kind.”

"We have 26, do we have 27?" asked Mrs. Devanshire with much less annoying perkiness.

"27" came a cry from another corner of the audience.

"28" came the response before Mrs. Devanshire could even get started on her ridiculous patter.

Percy stared in shock as the bidding war commenced. When it got to 100, he considered fainting. Then abruptly a voice from the back called out "200 galleons". Percy's head snapped up as he recognized the voice. Oliver. Who was supposed to be out of town till Monday! Oliver grinned at him from his position leaning against the back wall. Despite the flustered state this whole thing had gotten him into, Percy could not help but smile back. These women were scary! It was nice to know that his friend was willing to save him, however unexpectedly.

Mrs. Devanshire at the front had taken advantage of the cessation in the rapid-fire bidding to go through her 'going, going, gone' routine. Oliver started to politely work his way along the outside of the room to hand over his money, and meet Percy.

As Oliver handed over the money, Percy walked down the stairs from the stage, still grinning. "Oliver, what are you doing back in town? Not to mention bidding on a bachelor auction?" he sounded vaguely shocked even to his own ears.

Oliver chuckled. "Got in early, thought I'd come by and see if you wanted to go for lunch, and ran into the signs for this. Drew the obvious conclusion and decided to come watch. " He looked at him slyly. "Never owned a Weasley before.... What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Anything you want, I guess," Percy said absently, still adapting to this latest development. So he was somewhat startled when both Oliver and Mrs. Tate started snickering. Realizing where they'd both gone, he turned red and tried to think of a way to unsay that statement.

Mrs. Tate took pity on him though, telling Oliver, "Mostly you can make him do chores and the like for you…cleaning the house, carrying things. And of course, he'll attend the dance with you tonight... here are your tickets" She handed him an envelope.

"So he’s all mine for the day?" Oliver asked her with a charming smile. Percy watched in amusement as her answering smile took on an admiring edge. 

"Yes, he is," she giggled at him.

"Well, have you had lunch Percy?" Oliver turned back to his friend.

"No, and I'm quite starved," Percy answered honestly. He hadn't eaten yet today, he'd been so worried about this auction. His mother had been correct; the experience hadn't been as bad as he'd expected.

"Want to go get something quickly then?" Oliver asked.

"Sure," said Percy, and they wandered off companionably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is that at this point in time, I appear to have had a bizarre fascination with dressing Percy up. I think it was the idea of having something disruptively different enough to make people look closer at their assumptions. :)


	4. Wishes and Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments of connection can be hard, for someone as reserved as Percy.

Percy sat next to his father in the stands and tried to think of something to say. He knew it was distressing him that they had nothing to talk about, outside of work and the coming war. Bill or Charlie would have told amusing anecdotes about their friends. The Twins would have been pulling pranks, and keeping their father in a constant mix of horror and amusement. Ron or Ginny would be prattling on about school. All Percy could think of was the content of the latest report he'd been working on. He knew his father set up these outings in a futile attempt to bond with him, and he appreciated it, he really did! It was just that he knew how disappointed his father always was at the end, when once again, they'd discussed politics and all sorts of things complete strangers would discuss. His dad wanted to know Percy, to hear about what he thought, and what he did. But the openness that characterized the Weasley family had been lost on Percy. He wanted to bond with his father. He wanted to ask him all sort of things, but couldn't find the words, and knew they weren't what his father wanted to hear anyway. 

Giving up on the conversation front, he watched the players, trying not to appear to be looking for anyone. The last thing he needed was for his father to start questioning him. Oliver was playing today. And he was currently standing with the other players across the field. Percy's heart rose into his throat, as he looked closer. The other man was still gorgeous, smiling and chatting with his teammates. He seemed less stressed than he would have been back in the old days before a game. Percy smiled, thinking of Oliver's habit of pacing around the dorm room until his roommates threatened physical harm. At that moment, Oliver looked up and made eye contact. He smiled, and waved. Against his will, Percy half waved back, hoping he hadn't mistaken whom the wave was for. 

"A friend of yours?" His father's voice brought him back to himself and he quickly broke the connection and sat back in his seat.

"Just someone from Hogwarts," he said quietly, willing his father to let it go.

"Why don't you go on down and say hello?"

Percy tried to ignore the lump forming in his throat. He knew how this was going to go.

"No, that's okay," he mumbled.

"Are you sure? I don't mind..." his father trailed off encouragingly, as always expecting the one thing that Percy couldn't do.

"No, it's fine," Percy said stiffly, not meeting his eyes. Sure, just wander up and talk to someone who doesn't want to talk to you. One thing to do it when required by work or schooling, another to just walk up and start talking. He couldn't hold a personal conversation with his own father, how would he manage it with the guy he'd had a crush on throughout school? Not that anybody knew about that of course; he at least had that much pride.

His father sat back in his seat with a sigh, and Percy felt the ever-present shame raise its head. All his father wanted was for Percy to be normal like his other children. Fred and George would have been down there already, chatting away. But not standoffish, insecure Percy. He heaved a quiet sigh of his own. He was grateful his father tried to spend time with him, but hated the way he came away reminded of how insufficient he was... the one Weasley who wasn't open and outgoing and all the things that Weasleys are supposed to be.

Percy found himself, much to his mortification, blinking back tears. In a few months, the twins would have graduated from school, and he probably wouldn't get to spend time alone with his father ever again. So you'd think he could manage to get it right, when he had the chance.

The game started then, and he turned his attention to the field, where Oliver guarded the goal. A rush of furious pride filled him, as he waited to see his... What, his friend? They'd sort of been friends; at least more than acquaintances... Oliver, he told himself firmly... to see Oliver in action again.

The game was fast and furious, and half a dozen times Percy was certain Oliver had been killed, but he always somehow evaded disaster and kept the ball away from the goal. When the Puddlemere seeker caught the snitch, Percy was on his feet beside his father cheering. Mr. Weasley, gleeful over the win and the brief moment of bonding with his son, was clapping him on the back enthusiastically, cheering as well. Percy looked up into his father's excited eyes and smiled. This was why he didn't turn down his father's invitations to do things, he thought, heart feeling like it might burst from his chest. For these rare, wonderful moments of connection, when everything in the world was exactly as it should be. He turned his eyes back to where the Puddlemere team was making a victory round, cheering harder as Oliver grinned at him as he swept past.

***

Percy stood by the stand, waiting for his father to return from chatting with some work associates he'd run into. He was wracking his brain for something to say to the man after they finished re-hashing the game, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Percy?" Oliver. It was Oliver. Percy took a slightly shuddery breath and turned to face him with a smile.

"Hello Oliver, how've you been?" he asked politely.

Oliver gave him the same stunning smile, and Percy had to resist the urge to smile fatuously back. "I'm doing okay, I was glad to see you in the stands... it's been a while. How've you been?" he asked warmly.

Percy fought for words, flushing uncomfortably. Miserable, he thought. I've had a terrible time, I hate my job, and I'm not even being as much help to my family as I meant to be. "Fine," he said stiffly. "Very busy at the Ministry these days you know." That's right, Percy, act like he doesn't know where you work and bring up the bad news about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in one fell swoop.

Oliver looked slightly uncomfortable and seemed to be searching for words. "How do you like it then, working for the ministry?"

Percy flinched. Oliver always did ask questions he didn't want to answer. Never ‘what do you think’ questions, always ‘how do you feel questions’. Dangerous questions. "It's very interesting and challenging," he said, sounding pompous and fake even to himself. That's right Percy, make a fool of yourself on top of everything.

There was an uneasy silence, and Percy realized Oliver was waiting from him to further the conversation. Before he could come up with a question though, Oliver spoke again.  
"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your work," he said, smile much dimmed and body awkward. "It was nice seeing you again." His voice was flat as he turned and walked away.

Before he could stop himself, Percy took a step after him, hand out to draw Oliver back. Catching himself, he dropped his hand to his side and stepped back against the bleachers again, watching Oliver walk away. Stupid, he snarled at himself, gently smacking his head against the wood... Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Ready to go Percy?"

Percy plastered yet another empty smile on his face. "Yes, we should be heading home," he said, trying to force some sort of cheerfulness into his voice. "That was certainly an exciting game!" He followed his father towards the exit. Stupid, stupid, stupid....

***

I'm an idiot, thought Oliver Wood miserably, as he slouched towards the locker rooms. A complete and total idiot. Waving at him, showing off for him, that last part was an extra bitter twist of the knife, trying to MAKE him talk to me. You'd think I'd have learned by now... this isn't Hogwarts, I'm supposed to have grown out of this idiotic crush on a straight boy who has no interest in even talking to me.

He walked in and sat down in the common area, still berating himself.

"Who was the red-haired man?" came the teasing voice of his teammate Olivia. "By the way you were smiling at him, I'm thinking an old flame... "

Oliver found himself torn between responding with a remark so harsh he’d never be forgiven for it and bursting into tears. With a wordless growl, launched himself out of his chair and walked out, leaving Olivia and the others to stare after him. He winced as the door closed behind him MUCH harder than he'd needed to. I just need to go off and be away from people for a while. I'll apologize later.

***

When Oliver showed up for practice the next morning, the embarrassment of his ridiculous behaviour had him nearly cringing. He was given concerned stares as he approached. "Sorry for the - umm... outburst yesterday," he muttered, feeling the blush darkening his face.

"No problem," said Trevor cheerfully, and there were nods of agreement all around. Oliver felt some of the tension seep out of him. 

The practice session was a particularly long and gruelling one that day, and Oliver welcomed it. He still felt vaguely ill over making a fool of himself over Percy yesterday. Some days 19 didn't feel much older than 14, he thought ruefully...

After practice, Olivia stopped him on the way to the showers. "I want to show you a picture Adam took yesterday, but I need to know you're not going to bite my head off," she said warily.

Oliver blushed again. "I'm really sorry about that, I -"

Olivia relaxed and smiled at him. “It’s all right, come along.”

Oliver attempted to squash down the hope that this picture might be of Percy. How much more pathetic can I get?

She reached the bench she'd been aiming for and pulled out a stack of pictures, shuffling through it.

“Here it is,” she said, and handed it to him. He watched as his image in the photograph turned away from Percy with a look of misery on its face and body language screaming defeat. His expression must have given away his bewilderment at why she would want him to see him humiliate himself, because she added, “Watch him…”

As the loop restarted itself, he looked at Percy in the picture and saw him reach out to stop photograph-Oliver from walking away. And saw the look of pain on Percy’s face as he returned to his spot. Shock kept Oliver speechless for a moment as he looked up at Olivia.

“He doesn’t look too happy about the end of that conversation either,” she said gently. “Just a suggestion, but you might want to check and see if he’d like to continue it. Oh, you can have this one too,” she added, before getting to her feet and walking towards the women’s showers. 

Oliver turned over the second picture. Percy sat next to his father in the stands, but seemed to be searching for something. Whatever it was, he found it, and his face just lit up with pleasure, and Oliver’s breath caught in his throat. Percy in his solemn, scholarly mode was cute, but Percy smiling was gorgeous. And rare… he’d spent far too much of his stay at Hogwarts hoping to inspire one of those smiles, or even just be nearby for the appearance of one. He struggled with the new concept that maybe Percy wasn’t disinterested in spending time with him. Now what was he going to do about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just never felt the need to write out Oliver's actual pursuit of Percy that follows this. I just like ending it here, and leaving it to each reader to imagine what came next... LOL


End file.
